


parfum de mon encre

by crownedSerpent09



Series: Xiuharem One Shots [9]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Confessions, Football | Soccer, Love Letters, M/M, One Shot Collection, Scents & Smells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-24 17:36:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7517269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crownedSerpent09/pseuds/crownedSerpent09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I have something to tell you,” Minseok said. “I know who my secret admirer is.”</p><p>An extension of <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/7390129">eau d'amoureux</a>. They can be read together as a two shot or stand alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	parfum de mon encre

**Author's Note:**

> I was motivated to continue the story because I felt I had left things unresolved at the end of _eau d'amoureux_. Mostly I just wanted to write them interacting more and to actually provide some content for the aforementioned love letters. Basically, this story deserved more depth since I combined two concepts and didn't even write 1000 words for the first part.
> 
> Enjoy :) .xx

_Kim Minseok, perfect and indescribable. You tear me apart from the inside. You can bring me to my knees. I love you._

 

* * *

 

If Minseok though liking one of his friends was hard, being in love with him was even worse. For the first time in his life, he was unsure of want to do. Oh Sehun made him unsure of himself.

The letters were not dated, and Minseok hadn’t paid enough attention to them before to remember which day he had received the first one, but there had been one for every day and he could count.

On Thursday, Sehun had smelled like milk powder. Minseok had teased him for being a baby. Sehun had protested vigorously while nuzzling into Minseok’s shoulder where Minseok had an arm thrown over his shoulders as they walked. It was ineffectual, the way they were walking; Minseok was too short to be able to place an arm around Sehun’s broad shoulders with ease. But they made it work.

Thursday night, Sehun had smelled like ink, and Minseok had only categorized his scent briefly, out of habit, before turning his attention back to the show they were marathoning.

 

* * *

 

_I look into your eyes and I see stars and the deepest parts of the ocean. You’re not everything but you’re the only one that matters._

 

* * *

 

Realization destroyed Minseok. Curiosity killed the cat, ignorance is bliss. Minseok was so in love he felt it rushing up, choking him in a way that Sehun’s thickest colognes never could.

On Friday, Sehun had shown up at their meeting place on a motorcycle, engine revving loud and proud in the crowded square. Minseok had laughed at him to his face and tucked away the picture of Sehun in the jacket and helmet in the deep recesses of his mind.

Sehun wanted Minseok to sit in the front of him, since, as he gracefully put it, Minseok was small enough to be treated like a child. That had gotten him a punch in the stomach and an extra-hard headlock as Minseok squashed his head through the helmet.

As Minseok wrapped his arms around Sehun’s waist and pressed his nose into Sehun’s back, he noted that Sehun smelled like diesel and leather. It was second nature at this point.

 

* * *

 

_You’re warm and cold and I always trip over myself trying to keep up with you. I try to keep you from noticing but you’ve always seen me._

 

* * *

 

Everything was gray in Minseok’s bedroom as the sun set ingloriously. He had been lying on his bed for hours, processing and not _doing_. It would take very little to get up, haul himself over to Sehun’s place, and confess everything. It wouldn’t take much because he _knew_ Sehun’s answer.

Minseok’s cheekbones tingled with anticipation, but the rest of his body remained lifeless. He was tired from all the running of his thoughts.

On Saturday, Minseok had arrived at his practice in relatively good spirits, but he had known the rest of his team would lag, still feeling the effects of a hangover from Friday night parties. He ended it on time, instead of the usual few minutes practice would drag on for (because they needed work to be the best and his teammates understood that). Sehun was waiting for him, surprisingly, in front of the football field once Minseok had showered and changed.

“Hyung, I want bulgogi,” Sehun said as soon as Minseok was in hearing range.

“And I thought you were here for me,” Minseok remarked sardonically, lugging his duffle bag over to Sehun’s new motorcycle. “We can go now, if you can stand to be seen with me in my sweats.” Sehun had once left Zitao out of a group plan to get burgers when Zitao had shown up in plaid trousers and a top that was more belt than shirt.

“Hyung looks great,” Sehun said in his same flat voice. Minseok snorted.

His duffle could just fit in the motorcycle’s small trunk since the only other thing in there was Sehun’s bottle of Calvin Klein cologne.

 

* * *

 

_I just want to be able to tell you that I love you like I tell you everything else. Why is it so hard? How is it different from “hyung, I want to watch a movie with you tonight” and “I like chocolate bubble tea the best”?_

_Kim Minseok, I love_

 

* * *

 

The air felt too hollow, and Minseok was too much of a mess. He made it to Sehun’s door. The paint was peeling at the corners and the doorknob was rusting and he had been here hundreds of times before.

He had thought he had it under control, but how much denial was he in? How many times had he felt fine enough to just be friends when he was only falling deeper?

Lu Han had known the whole time, Minseok discerned. About both of them. He had tried to get Minseok to do something and Minseok had refused. Sehun did, though. Sehun was a lot braver than him.

On Sunday, Minseok had seen Sehun only once, briefly, in passing on his way to the library. The apartment he shared with Junmyeon was too loud. Baekhyun was shouting at the television as Yixing gradually surpassed him in their video game tournament, and he had to finish an essay that was due the next week because he knew he would be busy with club activities during the week.

Minseok greeted Sehun as he passed him on his way out of the door. He smelled like freshly cut grass and honey lemon.

 

* * *

 

_Your smile is unfair. I can’t concentrate when you do it, can’t concentrate when your nose scrunches in disgust, when your eyes widen when you pretend to be mad. I must be crazy for you._

 

_I can’t see why you don’t know it’s me. I’m painfully obvious, and all our friends know. They say they know about you, but they won’t tell me and I’m not sure about them anyway._

 

_You’re not reading this, I know. I love you._

 

_I’ve never seen Aphrodite, but I’m sure she can’t compare to how you look in the morning, with the sun in your hair and the world in your eyes. The world is at your feet, too, and god I wish I could give you everything._

 

* * *

 

It was too simple, in the end. Sehun opened the door, and Minseok stumbled in with shaking hands. His throat felt raw as Sehun closed the door and turned back to the living room and his couch. Minseok reached out, and the light tough on his arm was enough get Sehun to pause and look back at Minseok.

“I have something to tell you,” Minseok said. “I know who my secret admirer is.”

Sehun stared at him, lips parted. It was a long time before his body fully faced Minseok. “Who is it?”

“It’s you.”

Sehun blinked, and his light eyelashes drooped in front of his eyes like gossamer.

“I love you, Sehunnie.”

Their kisses worked the way they did, lips not fitted perfectly and teeth and tongues clashing. But Minseok and Sehun pieced their mouths together, and the undercurrent that had always worked between them suddenly broke through its dam and drowned them both in its rush. Minseok felt too much and too little all at once, and he could only press himself closer to Sehun and ride out the wave, building blocks falling in an imperfect tower and the thrill of dragging a finger across many strings. Sehun’s hands felt like the creamy white paper of the letters and his tongue traced through Minseok’s mouth like the precise figures of his calligraphy. He smelled tea leaves and honey lemon and vanilla and a hundred other scents, and he wondered how he once thought they were just observations when each one was imprinted in his mind and underneath his skin for as long as he’d known Sehun, for as long as he loved. The drag of Sehun’s hand across his back was _too much_ , but if he stopped Minseok knew he would reach after him because there was no way he was letting go of this.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” Sehun said, voice hoarse.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to,” Minseok returned.

When he rested his head on the crook of Sehun’s shoulder, Minseok smelled home.


End file.
